Animals and Broken Machines
by dreamsingreen
Summary: "Mr. Spock," the augment sneered, his voice low with hatred. "It appears that we are one in the same now." Spock visits Khan in his cell after Kirk's blood transfusion and explores his own limits in savagery and control. Khan revels in every minute of it. Spock/Khan, oneshot.


_a/n: _I am still trying to figure out how this story happened. I've never written slash before, and the first time I try I get this incredibly long, dark, screwed up encounter between Khan and Spock. Warning before you read any further: this story contains sex between two men (but not too graphic) and some dubious consent issues on Spock's part. Also, if you want a warm happy fic that brings out the best in both of these amazing characters, this story is NOT for you. You have been warned! ;)

* * *

**Animals and Broken Machines**

_In time we hate that which we often fear._ – Antony and Cleopatra

* * *

Spock watched transfixed as Dr. McCoy attended to James Tiberius Kirk, his Captain and his _friend_, and a man who, by all rights, should technically still have been dead. The transparent barrier allowed Spock to witness the doctor's every action, and he did so with several other crewmembers, mentally reminding himself to breathe at irregular intervals. To his profound relief, shortly after Kirk was removed from the antique cryotube and given a transfusion of Khan's blood, his vitals reappeared on the screens at his side and the measurements showed a steep rise in his immunity levels.

Kirk's life was restored and he would survive the radiation poisoning, though there was no telling at this point if he would ever be as he was before. But perhaps there was still an opportunity; a possibility, however remote, of a full recovery – the healing properties of Khan's blood were truly exceptional. If Spock had a mystical side to indulge, he would have even termed it 'miraculous.'

Spock was…_relieved_. Or at least, that was how he would characterize his current physiological and emotional state if he used human vernacular. Vulcans recognized the same state, a sense of profound peace and the normalizing of vitals after a rush of adrenaline and intense emotion, albeit with a different word.

Yes, he was _relieved_. His closest friend and one of his few anchors to sanity after the destruction of Vulcan would live, and would possibly recover completely; a brilliant tactician and a young captain who had sacrificed his life to save hundreds of people on board his ship without hesitation.

Despite his assuaged fear and the steadying of his breathing, however, there still seemed to be an invisible but unrelenting pressure in his head and heart. His throat felt constricted and each breath seemed to _burn_. Spock had felt the same unsettling sensation several times before in his life, such as when he had stood before the Elders of the Vulcan Science Academy as they derided his human heritage as a handicap, or when he had faced a helpless Nero on the verge of being consumed by a black hole, and recently when he had raised his fist over the prone Khan, ready and eager to deliver the killing blow.

He knew the feeling, and despite his Vulcan upbringing, Spock believed that the human word best described that all-consuming emotion: _hatred_.

And now, like each time before, his hatred had a clear and undeniable source.

_Khan_.

Spock turned and left the observation room, knowing that he would not be allowed to see Kirk for quite some time, possibly days. He strode to one of the _Enterprise_'s windows as calmly as possible, ignoring the pounding in his head and the slight tremors that were beginning to wrack his hands.

The _Vengeance_ had cut a path of destruction through San Francisco, toppling dozens of buildings and leaving estimated tens of thousands of people dead. Looking at the devastation anew from the hovering _Enterprise_ was startling; Spock had taken his old view of the city for granted, but now the absence of approximately a third of it was new and terrifying.

He could not help but be reminded of a day not so long ago when he had witnessed a similar, if more profound destruction.

Spock knew that the site of the warship's crash was no accident, given its proximity to Starfleet Headquarters. Khan had decided to make the name of the ship he designed literal.

His ears pounded as blood rushed to his head and his hands clenched into fists. He had only felt the depths of such uncontrolled emotion once before in his adult life before he had…taken measures, as all Vulcans did almost a dozen times throughout their lives.

Beneath his loathing ran a sharp current of fear, fueled by two dreaded words: _Pon farr._

_But these fears are illogical_, Spock reassured himself. _It is nowhere near time yet._

He ignored his knowledge that sometimes it could be triggered by highly stressful circumstances - the stress he was facing now was no worse than it had been when his planet was destroyed. To think otherwise would be illogical.

Spock paced, desperate for an outlet in which to channel the rage darkening his vision. Without being fully conscious of what he was doing, he allowed his feet to lead him directly to the brig.

* * *

Spock stopped several paces in front of the glass barrier, considering the captured criminal in front of him. The defeated terrorist – a murderer who had ruthlessly mowed down many thousands of people in order to avenge seventy-two.

Khan barely looked up at his arrival, and his expression was blank and his eyes empty, absent of the fury that he had directed at Spock and the entirety of the world in their last confrontation. Despite Spock's precarious relationship with emotion, he knew that Khan's seemingly indifferent exterior was a façade, the exact opposite of what it appeared to be.

Khan was beyond rage, beyond grief – he had been so consumed by his pain that he now refused to feel any more of it. The fact that Spock understood his perspective so completely only made him loathe the augment more.

Khan locked eyes with the Vulcan from where he sat, smirking bitterly, so much resignation and contempt in his smile that it seemed to break the bounds of the universe.

"Mr. Spock," the augment sneered, his voice low with hatred. "It appears that we are one in the same now. How does it feel to be one of the damned?"

Spock's world was still in that instant, and he perceived nothing for approximately 10.8 seconds after the augment's mocking question except for the black spots creeping slowly and steadily across his vision.

The Pon farr.

There was no denying it now – his very blood seemed to hum with dark promises: _fuck, kill, or die yourself SOON! There is no other way_.

Spock took a deep breath, trying to calm his frenzied thoughts. He had _time_ yet, plenty of time – days, even. He just needed to tell Khan…of his loathing. He needed to vent the anger inside of him, to make the augment understand how profoundly he had been defeated.

"Did it hurt, Mr. Spock? Falling from your lofty position into the dirt alongside us mere mortals?"

Spock turned to the chief security officer stationed beside Khan's cell in one smooth motion. "You and your men are dismissed for now, lieutenant. I have matters of a confidential nature to discuss with the prisoner."

The guard looked slowly from Khan to Spock, who was burning with a quiet fury, as if he was uncertain which man was the bigger threat to the other.

"Yes, Commander," he replied eventually, nodding at the other guards in the brig, and they followed him outside, the reinforced door swishing shut behind them.

Spock took another breath and turned to face the defeated warrior behind the glass. Khan's broken arm was wrapped in a sling, and his face was cut and bruised, but steadily healing. Spock felt a rush of satisfaction at his savage work. He knew that indulging in an enemy's pain was against everything he had been taught, and everything he personally believed, but his morality seemed to be fading as the ire in his blood rose.

"I do not understand your metaphor, Mr. Singh," Spock ground out, his voice laced with venom. "How exactly have I fallen?"

Khan laughed, not sardonically or coldly, as Spock would have expected, but with genuine amusement. He looked his age in that moment, Spock thought, young and strangely joyful, and not like a man who had been trained in savagery and murder since birth, with war itself reflected in his eyes.

He looked as if he could have been a friend of Jim's, if things had been different.

"You must be starting to understand," Khan whispered when he had finished laughing, his eyes wide. He stood with a barely suppressed wince of pain (which Spock was pleased to note) and approached the barrier. Their faces were inches apart.

"Your people are trained to suppress their emotions, are they not? Anger and sadness and fear are put aside in favor of calculated logic, because such feelings are seen as detrimental at best, dangerous at worst. You function like machines. Is this correct?"

Spock frowned, irritated at Khan's recital of common knowledge, before remembering that he was from the twentieth century. He was probably the first Vulcan that Khan had ever spoken to.

"While I would contest some of the details of your analysis, the essence of it is correct," Spock replied icily, raising an eyebrow. What point did the madman think he was making?

Khan laughed wildly, freely, and it sounded like broken glass wrapped in a silent scream. "Then tell me, Mr. Spock, exactly how you were able to defeat me."

Spock smirked, but there was no humor in his expression. "I outwitted you. You were so eager to reclaim your people and promote your eugenic philosophy that you never stopped to consider that the torpedoes might be armed."

Khan's eyes flashed and he hit the glass barrier with his fist as hard as he could. It shook slightly, but held firm. Spock remained resolute, not even flinching, though his heart rate rose in concert with Khan's renewed rage. The promise of violence was like a song in his veins.

Khan forced himself to smile. "You accuse _me_ of genocide, without having witnessed any of my reign, and then you practice it so casually yourself. It doesn't matter how many people comprise a species, Mr. Spock, seventy-three or billions. But I digress."

Spock kept his face carefully blank, not ready yet to tell Khan the true fate of his crew. The man had just murdered thousands; letting him think that his people were dead was a punishment that would affect him the most. The family members of those he had murdered would never have the comfort of being told that their loved ones were actually alive like Khan would, Spock reasoned.

"You murdered my people, you disabled my ship," Khan continued, his voice shaking slightly. "But that alone did not defeat me. I said that your intellect was useless in a fight, that you couldn't break bone," Khan cast a rueful glance at his injured arm, a twisted smile on his face, all bared teeth. "I underestimated you. I would have escaped if I had realized before that you're just as savage as I am."

Spock clenched his jaw, picturing breaking Khan's neck in one smooth motion. Or maybe he would tear out his throat…

_Fuck Kill or Die Yourself THEREISNOOTHERWAY_

_**No**_, Spock told himself firmly, clinging hard to his rationality. _This is not me. I will not allow him to manipulate my anger._

"You and I have little in common, Mr. Singh," Spock spat back, his voice rough. "You have murdered _thousands._ I sought to kill you, but only to prevent you from killing many more. It was an act of logic, not of savagery. You deserve to die."

Khan's eyes narrowed as he considered Spock, his head tilted. "Like your precious Captain Kirk?" Khan whispered after a pause, his eyes wild. "Or is he already back among the living? Does the blood of a monster run through his veins?"

Spock growled and turned to the terminal nearby upon hearing Kirk's name fall from Khan's lips, punching in the code to disable audio and visual feed to the cell and placing his fingertips over the scanner before he realized what he was doing.

The glass barrier was an impediment. Seeing Khan and gloating at his defeat was not enough. Spock _hurt_; his head ached, his heart pounded, and years' worth of bitter sorrow seeped like acid down into the very marrow of his bones. He needed to make Khan hurt as much as he did – even if it did not relieve his pain, at least he would not be so _alone_.

_Kill KILL make him hurt, make him PAY, he's right, he's right, and you're going to DIE_

"Come fight me, Vulcan," Spock heard Khan call over the ringing in his ears and the frantic buzzing in his brain. "Let's see whose bloodlust is stronger."

The clear barrier slid open and Spock leapt inside, giving Khan no time to prepare as the door slid shut behind him. He threw a vicious punch, catching the augment on the side of the head, just above the ear. Khan stumbled but recovered quickly, his kick hitting Spock's knee. Spock thought that he heard something pop, but he was too far beyond pain and rational analysis to care.

Khan was exceptionally fast, and his enhanced strength exceeded even a Vulcan's. Despite his usual advantages, however, he had a broken arm and numerous other injuries from the fight earlier that day, and in the confines of the small cell, Khan did not stand a chance against the rage of the Pon farr_._

He threw a punch that hit Spock's jaw like a freight train, shoving him savagely back into the wall one-handed before grabbing his throat and _squeezing_. Black spots danced across Spock's vision, but he was not deterred. He wanted Khan to _suffer_ more than he wanted air to sustain his life.

Spock grabbed Khan's jaw, his hand brushing against his face as he initiated a mind-meld. Khan flinched, recognizing the move and no doubt remembering the agony that it had caused him earlier that day.

Spock reasoned that he had caused Khan enough _physical_ pain, though he was not opposed to giving him more. But he also knew that _true_ pain was not measured by broken bones and torn flesh, but by regrets, dying dreams, and horrors that one was helpless to prevent.

A pain that Khan knew and feared as much as Spock did.

_His mother reaching out to him one last time, falling away to her death as he was beamed aboard to safety._

_Watching helpless from a starship as his planet was swallowed into nothingness, billions of lives extinguished and a civilization erased as if it had never existed at all._

"_Because you are my friend," he whispered, only to see his captain and savior's eyes become blank and empty, to watch Kirk's body go limp as he breathed his last._

_All of it, gone – everything good faded and died around him, but he lived on unharmed, __**alone**__._

Khan released his grip on Spock's neck, backing up to escape the anguish that the forced mental bond had caused him, a shattered shock on his face. Spock did not allow him to retreat easily; he grabbed Khan's broken arm at the wrist, pulling it back despite the sling and _twisting_.

Khan shouted in pain, struggling to break free, and Spock swept his feet out from under him, pinning him to the floor swiftly as he had been taught in his training.

He unleashed punch after punch on the augment, not quite as ruthlessly as he had earlier that day, but hard enough to hurt.

The whispers in his head were not satisfied, however.

_FINISH him snap his neck He deserves it, always has forever and then everything will go back to normal just as it was JUST AS IT WAS_

Spock growled in frustration, his anger split between the insistent voices screaming in his head and the blood on his fists. He wasn't sure if it was Khan's or his own.

He looked down at the super-soldier through his hazy vision, freezing as he saw the wide smile on his victim's face.

A smile of utter victory.

Spock gasped, feeling as if he had been doused in ice water. The voices fell silent, momentarily shocked into submission as well. The meaning of Khan's words from a few minutes earlier was perfectly clear: _We are one in the same_.

Savages, animals.

And now if Spock followed his dark instincts, if he snapped the augment's neck when he was unable to defend himself, he would be a murderer just like Khan.

Spock released his hold on the prisoner, backing away into the corner of the cell, his entire body shaking. Khan groaned a few feet away, sitting up slowly and looking over at him in confusion.

"Commander?"

_Kill him while he's helpless, he would do the same to you! One quick move and all of this will be OVER_

"Stay _away _from me," Spock hissed, gripping his head in his hands. Why had he walked _here_, of all places? He should have isolated himself, he should have better recognized the signs – of _course_ speaking with Khan would not relieve his frustration, but only heighten it.

"What is _wrong_ with you?"

Spock barely suppressed a scream as the frenzy in his mind and his blood climbed even higher.

"_Pon farr_," he managed to reply, though the rational part of his mind that was swiftly fading knew that Khan would have no idea what the term implied.

"What?"

Spock growled, and he longed to _destroy_ the source of that irritating voice. There was too much light and too much sound for him to process. Spock buried his head in his knees as his entire body trembled.

He thought that he heard movement as if from a vast distance, and jumped in shock when he felt a strong hand grip his wrists, pinning them above his head.

He opened his eyes, struggling to free his hands so that he could tear out his attacker's throat. Khan was staring at him, his icy blue eyes full of confusion and….and something that seemed disturbingly akin to _pity_.

Spock gaped in surprise again, the augment's unexpected reaction stalling the Pon farr for a second time.

"Look at me, Mr. Spock," Khan said slowly, his voice firm but soothing. "_Concentrate_. Tell me what Pon farr means. I know that you remember."

Spock struggled to pull the memory from the chaos that was his mind. Three things, there were three things that those dreaded words implied…

"Pon farr_…" _he began, his voice hesitant.

Khan nodded reassuringly, his gaze fixed on Spock's.

Hints of memory rose anew in his consciousness. He had wanted to snap Khan's neck, so that the pain would go away. "_Kill…"_ he murmured, and the augment frowned, clearly not satisfied by his answer. There had to be more to it.

Spock searched his captor's face for an answer, noticing Khan's strong jaw and piercing blue eyes in a way that he hadn't before. Khan's hand was warm as it gripped his wrists, and the longer Spock focused on his touch, the tighter his pants became.

"_Fuck…"_ he continued, noticing Khan's eyes flickering downward, "or… _die_."

Khan met his eyes again, his expression unreadable. His next words were registered by Spock's brain, but not fully processed or understood. "You murdered my crew in cold blood, Mr. Spock," he whispered, leaning in close. "I don't want to kill you, I want to _hurt_ you. Death is too lenient, but turning you into an animal and forcing you to betray your every principle? You will remember _that_ as long as you live."

The next thing that Spock's mind registered was Khan's mouth against his own. The augment's kiss was harsh and punishing; it seemed far more violent than sexual, and Spock tasted blood in his mouth from Khan's teeth.

He felt his strength return, and the voices hummed in satisfaction. Spock forced his wrists free from Khan's one-handed grip, and he pulled the other man to his feet, slamming him hard against the wall of the cell.

He never stopped to question why Khan was allowing him to take control.

Spock ripped Khan's shirt from his body in one smooth motion, the torn fabric catching on his sling. Khan laughed and the sound grated on Spock's ears; he pulled the sling from Khan's broken arm roughly in response, smiling savagely as the augment's grin became a grimace of pain.

Spock ran his shaking hands over Khan's bare chest. It was smooth and muscled under Spock's hyper-sensitive fingertips, but it was too perfect, too unmarred. He leaned in again and bit Khan's shoulder just above his collarbone until he tasted blood. Khan moaned and leaned into Spock as he trailed a series of bloody kisses and sharp bites down his torso.

Spock felt his body urge him forward as it never had before; his clothes were too tight, too constricting, and Khan's blood in his mouth was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. He tore off his shirt as quickly as he could, fumbling even more desperately with his pants and boots.

"Just an animal," Khan murmured, his voice coming from a great distance. "Just a broken machine."

Spock's vision was blurred as he grabbed Khan by the throat and threw him face-down onto the metal ledge that served as a bed; when he looked back at that moment afterwards, he realized that he had been crying.

He yanked Khan's pants down and began to enter him immediately, unconcerned about preparing him so that he would feel less pain. Pretending to care would be a lie, and Vulcans did not lie.

Khan held back a scream as Spock fucked him ruthlessly, gripping the edges of the metal ledge and taking slow, deep breaths to control the pain that was coursing through his body and the pleasure that was building slowly but steadily with each stroke.

Khan's silence only angered the voices that urged Spock on; they wanted to hear him scream, to hear him beg for mercy or beg for more.

_If he won't make a sound then he doesn't need any air NOW DOES HE_

"_Hate_. I hate you," Spock hissed at Khan as he wrapped his hands around the augment's throat, "even more than _Nero_. Maybe…" He moaned as he felt Khan arch into his touch, not retreating despite his lack of air. "Maybe…_you_ will remember this…as long as you live, Khan."

Khan stiffened underneath him, Spock's attentions and his cruel words sending him over the edge. Spock followed him shortly after, the frenzied voices in his head reaching an unnatural pitch as his body shook, and then fading into nothingness as he collapsed on top of Khan, exhausted.

Spock loosened his grip around Khan's throat, his stomach turning as he heard the augment immediately gasp for air. Just a few seconds ago, he had _fed off_ of the murderer's pain, and now…

Khan's rich, dark laughter filled the cell a few seconds later, grating against Spock's eardrums and nearly making his heart stop at the terrible revelation it contained.

"Checkmate, Mr. Spock."

* * *

Spock looked on as the sleeping superhuman was lowered into a cryotube, his face disconcertingly peaceful. The augment's expression was what disturbed Spock the most about the entire procedure (_besides freezing a man without a trial, of course_); Khan should always look devious and contemptuous, because, at least in Spock's opinion, that was exactly what the man was.

He had manipulated Spock into betraying Uhura's trust, and into betraying every principle that he claimed to uphold.

_We are one in the same_.

Spock understood the meaning of Khan's words now, and he knew that their weight was something that he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

_Is there anything you would not do for your family?_

The second before Khan fell unconscious from the sedatives, Spock had whispered the _true_ fate of his crew into his ear. He thought that he had seen a glimmer of comprehension, of relief, but perhaps it was what humans termed 'wishful thinking.'

They were all animals, truly. Human or Vulcan, they were born and then spawned and died in an endless cycle.

Khan's voice, pitying in his mind: (_How does it feel to be one of the damned?) _


End file.
